


Inherency

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for season 2 episode ' 1969 '</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inherency

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the March 2, 2015 Gen Fic Day Alphabet Soup

 

 

**Inherency**

 

Daniel has only just entered Sam's office when Jack comes bounding in from behind, a wave of energy that laps at Daniel's back, urging him forward out of its path. He steps aside and Jack heads straight for the secondary computer terminal at the near end of Sam's work counter.

 ″How do you get the internet on this thing?″ He's wiggling the mouse, stabbing at the space bar repeatedly. ″Come on, wake up.″

 No one bothers to point out that this terminal is no different than any other on the base, including the one in Jack's office – they all know this is more a case of vim and vigour than it is feigned ignorance. A short flurry of clicking apparently takes Jack where he wants to be, and as Daniel walks around behind him toward where Sam and Teal'c sit at her desk, he glances at the monitor and cannot help but shake his head at what he sees there.

 Jack is typing, filling in the calculator's data fields, as Daniel hikes up a leg to sit on the edge of Sam's desk. Before he has a chance to tell them what Jack is doing, Jack lets out a an ″Aha!″ of discovery. Teal'c wanders over to stand behind Jack, peering over his shoulder.

 ″Hah,″ Jack proudly tells the room. ″I knew it didn't sound right.″ Daniel rolls his eyes, giving Sam a 'don't ask' shake of his head in response to her questioning look.

 ″You are using the wrong tool, O'Neill,″ Teal'c says and leans forward to point at something on the screen. ″This one. Plus, you must compound the interest.″

 Jack knocks Teal'c's hand away, shooting a glare over his shoulder, but there's more clicking, followed by more data entry. ″Well, crap,″ he soon says, and Daniel would laugh except for the fact he's preoccupied with more serious thoughts.

 ″Surely you do not begrudge General Hammond this, O'Neill.″

 Jack shoos Teal'c back toward Sam's desk, following him. ″No, I do not begrudge Hammond this,″ he half-mimics Teal'c's tone. ″I was just checking."

 Daniel wants to tell Teal'c this has nothing to do with the money. Different people have different ways of coming down from stressful situations, and this is Jack's. But he doesn't bother, because he suspects Teal'c well knows this by now; Teal'c is simply yanking Jack's chain.

 ″How did you get to be such a financial whiz, anyway?″ Jacks asks Teal'c, but immediately answers his own question, casting a long-suffering look at Daniel as he says,″ We do have clerks who manage his money for him, you know.″

 ″I'm happy to contribute my share, Sir,″ Sam offers. ″The total is, what, about five hundred forty?″

 Teal'c cheerfully – or, as close to overtly cheerfully as Daniel's ever seen, from Teal'c – announces the correction. ″With interest compounded at an estimated average of rates over the last thirty years, we owe General Hammond six hundred eighty seven dollars and forty-six cents.″

 Jack stares first at Teal'c, then Daniel. Daniel simply shrugs off the accusation, because really, this is mostly Teal'c and very little him. Teal'c has proven to be adept with math. And anyway, Daniel has other things on his mind, and Jack's serio-comic relief has just provided a natural opening.

 ″Speaking of General Hammond,″ Daniel says, turning to look at Sam. ″He recognised us as the people he'd been ordered to escort, in the past, and that's why he gave you the note to himself ...″

 ″Yes,″ she nods into the pause he's left hanging while he's deciding how to word his question. ″And that's also, in part, why for the last year and a half I've been supervising the research into potential alternate applications of Stargate technology; the suggestion we incorporate that research into our department mandate came from General Hammond, and he ordered that I take a lead role.″

 ″In order to advance your knowledge, so that you would be prepared for what has just transpired,″ Teal'c fills in, then tips his head to one side and amends his statement, ″Or, perhaps, for what had transpired.″

 ″Oy,″ Jack utters. ″Let's not go there, okay? We're here, we're back, everything is just swell. It's all over and done with – time to move on.″

 Sam grins at the unwitting pun, but Daniel is still back at the preamble to his question, which he actually hasn't even asked as yet. He holds up one finger, gesturing wait, just wait, and says, ″Okay, yes, I get all that ...″ He sees the self-satisfied look that appears on Jack's face and hurries to clarify what he's referring to. ″No, I meant I get the original impetus behind Sam's research and its contributions. About General Hammond's note, though ... there are a few things I don't understand.″

 ″Daniel,″ Jack warns in his sternest of Daniel-warning tones. ″What did I just say?″

 Daniel ignores him, because behind his confusion over the why and how and when of the general's note there's a personal matter weighing heavily enough on his mind that he cannot leave it alone. Uncertainty drives him to ask his question, even despite that on the whole he agrees with Jack that it's best not to delve into this time travel stuff.

 ″I'm right with you there, Daniel. There's lots not to understand,″ Sam says, smiling, in the moment before she syncs with him enough to anticipate his question. ″Oh. You mean, what its contribution was and why did he have to send it in the first place?″

 Daniel shrugs in reply. Yes, he doesn't understand why it might have been necessary to send the note but that's not really what's primarily bothering him. He can live with not understanding the dizzying paradoxes inherent in the concept – now, the reality – of time travel; it's the personal inference he's drawn from the experience that he needs to resolve.

 ″I see your problem. The fact that we were here in the recent present for him to give the note to might seem, in terms of common sense analysis, to imply it might have been unnecessary and possibly non-contributory in resolving the past situation,″ Sam says and Daniel automatically nods, because although that's not the crux of his concern it is something he's wondering about.

 He turns away slightly so he doesn't have to see the accusatory look on Jack's face as Sam speculates aloud from a perspective none of them can even hope to understand. ″It's really fascinating, actually; this experience very well may point us toward new avenues of research into theories of backwards causality. There's ample enough support, including Einstein's theory of special relativity and our own confirmatory research, for ...″

 ″Sam,″ Daniel tries to interject, without success.

 ″... the possibility of time travel into the future via time dilation pathways. Going the other way is another matter though. Even though Relativity Theory doesn't specifically rule out the possibility of backward time travel, it's considerably more problematic, mostly because of contradictions just like the one you're referring to.″

 ″Sam.″ He tries again and this time she takes notice, smiling at him and raising her eyebrows in invitation. If she thinks he might be about to provide anything intelligent, though, she has another thing coming. ″What I was wondering, what I mean is ...″ he asks, more than just a tad bit plaintively, ″... why does he remember any of it in the first place?″

 That feels important to him, no matter the possibility he'll truly understand any answer she might give him is probably close to zero. He suddenly realises he doesn't actually need to know _why_   Hammond remembers, anyway – simply voicing the question has made it clear it's the fact of it that's weighing on his mind, not the reason for it.

 ″I don't know,″ Sam replies far too happily. ″At our current level of knowledge pretty much the only rational means of resolving concerns over inherent paradoxes is a theory proposing multi-timeline generation as a result of interference in the past. But that doesn't seem to have happened here.″ She looks at them all with an engaged, self-sustaining enthusiasm and doesn't seem in the least bit disappointed to receive only blank stares in return.

 ″You know, the more I think about this, the more intriguing the possibilities are.″ She heads over to the computer terminal that's linked to the lab server. ″Quantum entanglement very well may support the plausibility of retro-causality but determining the direction of influence of possible timeline self-consistency is going to require ...″ She begins audibly enough, but in the next breath she's madly typing away and muttering the rest of it to herself, as if there was no one else in the room with her.

 Daniel's bodily yanked from the lab by Jack's hand on his collar. ″Now see what you did?″ Jack complains. ″You broke Carter.″ He lets Daniel go and ushers Teal'c down the corridor ahead of him, bitching about archaeologists who don't know when to shut up and don't deserve to be invited to get pie.

 That's fine, because Daniel's not into pie just now. He's got a personal mini-crisis of sorts to deal with. He's just not sure how to do that, though, without risk of embarrassing himself, so when he arrives at General Hammond's office door he's not sure whether he should knock or just walk away. He's leaning toward the latter because these sudden doubts are silly, really, aren't they? It's not like he hasn't contributed, hasn't proved his worth here ... hasn't he?

 He turns to leave and just about comes nose up against the general himself, returning to his office from wherever. ″Dr. Jackson,″ Hammond greets him, reaching past Daniel to open the door. He waves a hand toward the interior. ″Come on in. What can I do for you?″

 Daniel realises he was visible to Hammond, standing at the man's office door, all the while the general topped the stairs and crossed the briefing room. So he can hardly say 'oh, nothing, I'm fine thanks' and leave without seeming a bit strange. He's no choice but to follow Hammond inside, and once there he hovers by the window, following one of the star map's lines along the glass with his finger, until the man is settled at his desk.

 General Hammond is a perceptive man, and Daniel isn't surprised when instead of once again asking him outright what he wants, the general eases him into it. ″I'm looking forward to SG-1's written reports on this one,″ Hammond mildly observes. ″I imagine it must have been particularly interesting for you, considering your age, to experience as an adult a time thirty years into your past. How old were you, back then?″

 You probably well know, Daniel wants to say, but thinks maybe his uncertainty is showing and Hammond is trying to put him at ease with mundanity, so he shoves his hands into his pockets and decides to participate. ″Four. I was just over four years old. And, yes,″ he allows, ″I did find it interesting. The whole lost in time thing was a bit harrowing, but that aside ...″ he trails off, and shrugs.

 Hammond then says, ″I understand you were, what, about eight years old when your parents were killed?″ and Daniel jerks upright from his usual slouch, appalled at the direction of thought the comment indicates.

 He slowly approaches the desk, placing his hands on the back of the guest chair to keep them still. ″Sir, are you asking me if I might have done something ... if I might have let my personal history get in the way of my dedication toward the present day?″

 Like what? Leave a note somewhere for his parents to find four years on? Mail a letter? What would it say – 'look up'? He can't deny the idea had fancifully occurred to him, but he'd never follow through. It was unthinkable.

 Daniel knows he's taken, and in some cases acted upon, stances that the military minds around him have difficulty accepting. And worse, he's made outright mistakes – an especially huge one earlier this year that still haunts him – but the thought Hammond might feel him capable of something so unwise, so knowingly reckless, twists his stomach and further dents his floundering self-confidence. Is this it, then? Is he done here?

 He's surprised again by the immediate, and fortunate, response, as it's Hammond's turn to be brought up short. ″No, son. No,″ he's quick to correct Daniel. ″I'm aware you would never do such a thing. You seem concerned about something, and I thought, if that were it, perhaps you might need ... an ear.″

 Hammond is a bit flustered, Daniel realises, and both that and his offer provoke a spurt of fondness for the man. He can only hope Hammond respects him even half as much as he respects Hammond. ″Thank you, Sir. No, it's not ... ″ He decides to finally just spit it out, asking,″ Sir, what now? With me?″

 The momentary confusion his question generates is quickly wiped from Hammond's face, to be replaced by a slow nod of understanding. After a few moments of thoughtful deliberation, he replies equally as slowly, ″I don't plan on making any changes.″ Daniel's relief takes a detour back into apprehension, though, as Hammond adds, ″Do you feel I should consider making a change, Dr. Jackson?″

 ″No! Uhm, sorry ... no, Sir.″ Daniel barely manages not to stammer, shaking his head. No, the status quo is a-okay; no changes necessary. Except, he thinks, that's not entirely true; there are some improvements he'd like to see, such as a greater tolerance for – . He suddenly realises what he is doing, and that General Hammond is watching and assessing, and orders himself to stop thinking before he accidentally blurts out something that might change the general's mind.

 ″Glad to hear it.″ Hammond looks down at the work on his desk, moving a few folders around as he adds, ″However, Dr. Jackson, if I'm interpreting you correctly, your underlying concern pre-dates my involvement with the project.″ He says it in an almost absent-minded, nothing important to see here tone of voice Daniel knows is a feint – and an unspoken recommendation that Daniel please get out of his office now.

 He nods his thanks and takes his leave, not only of the general's office but also of the SGC and the mountain. Because General Hammond is right; Daniel's immediate worry may have been addressed but there's an underlying issue, and the truth about that lies elsewhere.

 Catherine seems genuinely pleased to see him when she responds to his knock, inviting him in without hesitation. ″What brings you here?″ she asks. ″Ernest is out, I'm afraid, if it's him you've come to see.″

 Daniel assures her that no, he doesn't need Ernest, and when he turns down her offer of tea she understands he's unsettled. She leads him to the couch in the sitting room and stands sentinel over him until he's comfortably seated, as if the plush cushions will magically help him feel better, or somehow make it easier to tell her what's bothering him.

 ″We've just returned from ... ″ He almost says 1969, because he knows that if she understands he'd see it in her face right away, but at the last minute he changes his mind. ″Catherine, I'm hoping you can answer a question for me,″ he says instead, and just blurts it out. ″Why did you bring me onto the project?″

 She frowns, worried for him. ″Is something wrong,″ she asks, sitting down and leaning toward him, empathy at the ready. ″Has something happened?″ Before he can assure her everything is all right, though, she lets out a small noise on a breath of air, something that almost sounds like an ″ah″, and sits up in a more formal posture, hands clasped in her lap.

 ″Why would I be interested in hiring someone with a history of biting the hand that feeds him? Someone in the midst of knowingly destroying his own credibility and career?″ she rhetorically asks. ″Is that what you want to know? Why I would bring a brash young man with a demonstrated disregard for working within the boundaries of an established bureaucracy onto a tightly controlled military project?″

 Daniel is abruptly hit with the full extent of his need to know he's with the program for the right reasons, and how desperately he still wants to believe she had faith in him. He has to dig for enough voice to whisper, ″Yes, please,″ in response to her list of all the reasons he was and possibly still is the wrong person for the job.

 Catherine studies him, her lips pursed, for a moment then smiles and gently tells him, ″Because you were just what I needed, Daniel – a brilliant linguist and unconventional thinker; a courageous and independent man who would sooner commit professional suicide than allow himself, his judgement, and his beliefs to be trampled by the military machine.″ She places a hand on his arm and squeezes gently. ″Inherency, Daniel. Everything about you was perfect. Is perfect.″

 He believes her, and his relief is strong enough that had he not already, he would have had to sit down. As an adult, he's not been one to worry all that much about what other people might think of him – he'd still be working at the institute under Dr. Jordan, if he were – but this experience has surprised him; it's revealed that General Hammond and Catherine are a very different matter. Their motives and their opinions of him are important.

 ″So maybe you don't remember,″ he finds himself softly mumbling the thought aloud, only realising he's done it when she says she didn't quite hear that and can he please repeat it.

 ″We've just returned from a mission,″ he tells her in its stead, this time finishing it off properly. ″To 1969.″

 He's surprised when she laughs, a spontaneous burst of ladylike amusement that he suspects is at his expense when she says,″Oh, finally! Daniel, ever since your return from Abydos, when I put the past and present together and recognised you, there's been something I've been waiting to tell you.″

 So she did remember after all but just not back then; she'd been the engineer of this amazing new life of his because, in fact, she'd thought he was worthy, not because of some time-worn external obligation. Warmed by the affirmation of her belief in him, he's more than happy to hear whatever she has to tell him. ″Yeah? What's that?″ he invites, returning her smile.

 ″You may be an accomplished polyglot, Daniel,″ she tells him, ″But I've never heard a more painful feigned German accent in my entire life. You're lucky I was curious, and didn't decide to just throw you out of my house.″

 Daniel smiles – that's fine; he's not insulted. He's a bit concerned, though, at the thought that if Catherine had decided not to speak with them because of his poor accent, he might have been responsible for them never having been able to find the Stargate. But then again ... General Hammond and Catherine remembering the past indicate this isn't a new, offshoot timeline; so, that they were available to go on the mission that sent them back into the past, Hammond's note in hand, must mean they would somehow have found their way back home without the note, or, at least, forward into the far future where –

 Oh, screw it. Jack is right. We're here, we're back, everything is just swell. It's all over and done with. Time to move on.

 No pun intended.

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
